


A Monstrous Love

by asarcasticwitch, Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Daddy Kink, Knotting, M/M, Monsters, Oral Sex, Other, Outdoor Sex, Peter Hale's Alpha Form, Rimming, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29996319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asarcasticwitch/pseuds/asarcasticwitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: They talked about it weeks ago, after Stiles made a throwaway comment regarding the dimensions of Peter’s cock in Alpha form. Peter asked if it was something he'd want to try, to which Stiles—probably a little too enthusiastically—said: "Hell fucking yes!"
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 44
Kudos: 320





	A Monstrous Love

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I ever would have written this without Witchy, or if I did, it wouldn't be as good. So thank you so much for enabling me into writing Xeno Steter! And thank you to our beta, Majoline. 
> 
> -Green
> 
> If we missed any big tags, let us know!

Stiles squints up through the trees at the moon and listens for the beep. "Peter, it's me again. Still wondering where the hell you are. Your moron nephew called me out to the Preserve but now _he's_ not answering, either. So. Call me back before I kill him, okay?"

He pockets his phone and huffs, watching his breath come out as fog. It's cold, and he's getting more and more pissed as time goes on.

"That's it," he grumbles to himself. "Fuck this. I'm going home. Wait, no, I'm going to the loft to wait for Derek so I can rip him a new asshole."

He's walking back to where he parked when he hears the howl.

It's a bloodcurdling sound, one that has him stopping dead in his tracks, breath hitching in his throat as he scans his surroundings.

It's dark, too dark for his human senses to make out anything but the rough shape of trees all around. He's frozen on the spot, the rapid beating of his heart echoing between his ears the only sound he can hear.

"Derek?" he calls out, voice barely above a whisper.

No answer comes. And honestly, what the fuck did Stiles expect?

"Derek," he tries again, feeling a little bolder as the silence stretches. "I swear to god, if this is some sort of joke, I'm going to skin your furry—" The rest of his rant dies on his tongue as a colossal figure comes lumbering slowly through the trees.

"Another Alpha?" Stiles mumbles to himself. Mistake, because now the beast is looking right at him, red eyes shining. "Fuck fuck fuck f—"

Instinct takes over, and he runs.

(If he took a minute to think about it, he'd know running from a predator is a sure way to get eaten. But his brain has lost all higher function, explaining the slight lapse in judgment.)

He barrels through the trees, his freakishly long arms flailing as he prays for his legs to carry him faster. His lungs begin to burn, and every panting breath is like a knife sliding up his gullet.

He can’t see for shit, and the deeper he runs into the woods, the darker it gets. He tries his best to stick to any remaining path still illuminated by the moon, but with fear building inside him, he can’t exactly dwell on tactics.

"Why is it always me?" he pants out breathlessly, hazarding a glance behind him.

He doesn't see anything, but he runs smack dab into the Alpha beast when he turns back. He might scream. He definitely flinches.

And then the monster tilts its head just _so_ and a shiver of recognition runs down Stiles's spine.

"Peter?" he asks incredulously.

The Alpha's eyes bleed scarlet in answer. After a few moments assessing the gigantic creature, it finally dawns on Stiles precisely what's happening.

They talked about it weeks ago, after Stiles made a throwaway comment regarding the dimensions of Peter’s cock in Alpha form. Peter asked if it was something he'd want to try, to which Stiles—probably a little too enthusiastically—said: "Hell fucking yes!"

Stiles didn’t want it to be something they planned; he wanted the thrill of the surprise, for Peter to spring it on him when he least expected it.

Well, color him thrilled, surprised, and unexpecting in equal measure.

The beast takes a single step forward in the silence, a deep rumble echoing in his chest, head dipped low as if waiting for permission to move any closer.

"You want me?" Stiles asks as he catches his breath. His lips curl into a smirk at the obvious nod even as his heart thunders in his chest. "Well, you're gonna have to catch me... _Alpha_." He winks at the now-growling beast, turns on his heel, and bolts in the opposite direction.

This time, adrenaline is still pumping through his veins, but it's because of the anticipation, the thrill. Fuck, Peter's Alpha form is even bigger than Stiles remembered, and there was no heads-up so Stiles could prepare.

That's okay. Stiles has always been good at thinking on his feet.

He doesn't know where he's running; it's not like he knows the Preserve the way Derek or Peter do. But he'd bet Peter knows exactly where they are. So when the beast comes up on his left and Stiles automatically dodges right, that means he's being _herded_ somewhere.

The man is clever, disgustingly so, and never does anything without a purpose. Stiles wonders how long Peter has been preparing for this, and if Derek's call is the only thing he's planned in advance.

His next swerve answers his question; the clearing ahead has what looks like a nest of blankets with fairy lights overhead. The closer he gets he also notices a few other supplies strewn across the forest floor: food, drinks, lube—the essentials. Stiles would swear this is all Peter’s attempt at cliché romance. He can't help the smile that pulls the corner of his lips.

A rumbling growl startles him from his thoughts, suddenly reminding him of the great hulking beast hunting him down like prey.

For the second time tonight, Stiles freezes on the spot. There's no more point in running. The monster has lured him to its ultimate destination, and he's only been delaying the inevitable.

The beast advances on him, slow and calculated. Predatory. Nearly hypnotic. The Alpha's hot breath ghosts over Stiles's face as it leans in close, huffing in deep, greedy gulps of his scent.

The monster moves to trail a single claw across his cheek. Stiles barely has the chance to wince—in the next second, the clawed hand wraps around his fragile throat, squeezing lightly.

Stiles's heart pounds in his chest, ribcage rattling with the deafening beat. The Alpha moves its fingers to curl around his jaw, and with little effort, lifts him into the air until their eyes are level. Stiles kicks uselessly as his feet leave solid ground, his hands clutching at the monster's thick, furred arm.

Red eyes stare at him for a long moment. Its teeth are bared in what Stiles deciphers as a smirk—or at least as close to one as the beast can manage. The bastard is enjoying watching him struggle.

Peter may have prepared for this, planned it out meticulously, but now he's all beast, instincts at the fore. Stiles is usually _a lot_ : bratty and mouthy and hard to handle without a 'firm hand'. But that hand is usually gentle and kind at its root, whereas this monster is looking for nothing but his complete submission no matter how it comes about. The thought makes Stiles shudder and go utterly limp. He's excited because he knows what's coming and wants it, but the possibility of things going wrong is not a small one.

(Maybe it's the danger that has his cock hardening in his pants. Maybe he _likes_ the giant fangs dripping saliva and the big claws that could gut him in a split second.)

The Alpha huffs, and then Stiles feels a claw against his skin in a place he thought was covered. Oh, the big scary monster is slicing his clothes off. Stiles is going to be naked and even more vulnerable. He'd make a crack about that, but he's holding his breath in case one of those immense claws accidentally rips into his tender human flesh.

Thankfully, the Alpha misses anything vital. It does knick the skin on his hip as it shreds the tough fabric of his jeans, but Stiles barely reacts with more than a hitch in breath. If anything, the little sting makes his dick throb more insistently between his thighs, and ain't that something?

The Alpha's nostrils flare, superior senses honing in on the waves of lust no doubt rolling from him. Stiles feels the beast's satisfied purr through the claws on his neck, the vibrations flowing through his body, right down to his toes.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. He lets his head fall back as much as he can in the monster's hold, instinctively baring his throat.

A deep, growled laugh shakes Stiles to his core.

"Please," Stiles gasps out. " _Alpha_."

The monster tosses him to the nest of blankets and Stiles lays stunned for a moment on his back. He can't even think as the Alpha ( _his_ Alpha) towers over him.

It noses along his jaw, peppering his skin with nips and bites as it moves down to his torso, stopping when it reaches his nipples. A long, wet tongue slides past its sharp fangs, licking a sloppy stripe over one of the hardening buds. Stiles keens, arching closer to the monster's rough licking, reaching out unwittingly, burying his fingers in the coarse fur to hang on.

The monster lowers its bulk, and suddenly Stiles no longer feels the sharp, cold air of the night assaulting his naked flesh. The creature radiates supernatural warmth, blocking out any breeze surrounding them.

The creature leans on what could be its... elbows? Taking enough care not to crush Stiles, but there's no mistaking that he's being boxed in, the weight keeping him firmly in place.

The monster's proximity brings Stiles's attention to the cock hanging hard and heavy between its legs. It's leaking profusely onto Stiles's abdomen, leaving a wet, sticky trail. He sucks in a breath as the creature begins to mindlessly rut against him.

He can feel the cock growing impossibly longer with every buck of the creature's hips, and Stiles wonders briefly how in the seven hells it's going to fit.

The monster makes a soft noise of acknowledgment, and Stiles realizes he's been babbling out loud. The Alpha lifts its head from where it's been teasing his nipples—both of which are now bruised and swollen—to jerk its muzzle toward the bottle lying amongst the leaves above Stiles's head.

"Y-yes, good idea," he mutters, reaching for the lube. The monster makes a pleased hum, going back to rendering Stiles practically incoherent with tongue and razor-sharp teeth.

Fingering himself in front of Peter isn't new, but doing it here and now is definitely different. The angle is awkward, too, but he's afraid to turn over in case it baits the Alpha into fucking him before he's ready.

Is it weird to keep thinking of it—him—as 'the Alpha' when it's so obviously Peter? And yet this is a side to Peter that has only ever caused terror to people. And Stiles wants to fuck it? Or rather, have _it_ fuck _him_? The theory of it was a lot safer, but now it's here on top of him, breathing on him, coarse fur rubbing against his naked skin and it's maddeningly hot and yet terrifying at the same time. What is he even doing?

He's adding another finger, is what he's doing, because that monster cock is gonna split him open if he doesn't.

And though that thought low-key turns him on—okay, high-key, but he's keeping that between him and the universe—he knows he won't be thankful for it tomorrow, so he scissors his fingers, stretching his rim as best he can in the restricted space the beast is allowing him.

The Alpha huffs, bright red eyes gazing at him with a look Stiles can’t quite decipher.

It isn't until the monster casts its eyes downward, hips thrusting with a little more intent does Stiles understand its meaning.

"God, why am I not surprised you're impatient in every form?" he grumbles, but there's no heat behind the words. It would be slightly hypocritical of him if there was.

The Alpha's lip curls over its fangs in a snarl, suddenly crawling down Stiles's body, dipping its head low between his spread legs.

Goosebumps prickle over Stiles's skin as he's once again exposed to the cool evening air, but he ignores it. Instead, he focuses on the Alpha now watching every single one of his movements intently, seemingly enthralled as he fucks himself on his fingers.

The monster's hot breath fans over his hole, and a shiver runs up Stiles's spine. Drool drips from the creature's maw and trickles thick and warm down his hand. It adds more slick to his fingers and ass, and fuck, _fuck_ , that should not be as hot as it is.

There's an obscene squelch as he pushes the creature's copious spit into his aching hole, wrenching a truly pornographic moan from deep in his gut. His head lolls backward, hitting the ground with a resounding thump as he takes a moment to relish in the wet and filthy sounds now echoing through the clearing.

He doesn't have a lot of time to enjoy it, though. A massive, clawed hand flips him over onto his belly, and Stiles gets growled at until he pushes up on his hands and knees.

"Alright, alright," Stiles says shakily. "I'm ready! You're right. Okay."

The creature huffs and then shoves its snout right where he's worked himself open.

Stiles isn't even sure if there's a line between gross and hot anymore. This whole experience is tearing away at what he thought were his boundaries. Peter's always been good at that, pushing and testing him until Stiles figures out where his lines _really_ are. Sometimes he thinks Peter knows him better than he knows himself.

He's forced back into the present by a muscular tongue working its way inside him. He keens but doesn't dare move lest the fangs resting against his skin slide into him like a hot knife.

"Please," he breathes.

The tongue slides out and the fangs retreat. Stiles shakes with relief, but it's only a moment before fur slides up his back and the Alpha's cock prods his slick hole with _purpose_.

After a few tries to get the right angle, the monster hits its mark. Stiles's mouth hangs open on a silent scream, fingers scrambling through leaves and dirt as the Alpha impales him in one long, sure thrust.

For a few seconds, all Stiles can do is breathe, the feeling of fullness almost overwhelming him. Even with his careful preparations, his insides burn as they stretch to accommodate the creature's pulsing length. Despite the brief discomfort, his own cock grows impossibly harder.

A high-pitched whine brings him back to the present. The monster's body is stock-still as it waits for him to adjust. Stiles can't help smile at that.

It's still _Peter_.

He knows it'll be taking every ounce of self-control the wolf has left not to just give into instinct and pound him into the forest floor, fuck him rough and dirty, mount him like a bitch in heat. And while Stiles is hella grateful for the consideration, he really doesn't want the Alpha to hold back.

He wants everything.

"Come on, _Alpha_ , give me all you've got."

That seems to be all the permission the creature needs as it pulls almost all the way out of Stiles's body before driving back in without restraint. Stiles cries out as the tapered end of the wolf's cock grazes past every single sensitive nerve inside him. There's no precision, no finesse to the monster's movements, just a deep-rooted, animalistic hunger to mate... to _breed_.

Stiles spreads his thighs wider, back bowing to present his ass further to the creature. The Alpha grunts in approval, the position allowing his cock to slide in even deeper, so deep that Stiles could swear he feels him in his throat.

A clawed hand presses roughly between his shoulder blades, pinning him down so all he can do is lie there and _take it_.

Truthfully? It's as close to flying as Stiles has ever felt.

He closes his eyes and loses himself in the glorious sensation of surrender. He doesn't know how long he lies there being fucked by Peter's massive Alpha form before the cock inside him starts to swell, reminding Stiles that it's far from over.

It _hurts_. His eyes snap open and he stares but doesn't see. All he can do is feel that monstrous cock becoming even more, taking shape to punch out a spot inside him that belongs solely to Peter.

The Alpha growls, setting its fangs against Stiles's shoulder, holding him still as he begins to writhe and thrash.

Stiles whines and begs, for what, he's not sure. More? Less? All he knows is he's swimming in sensation, close to drowning in it, and he's unable to do anything but submit. It's too much, but not enough, the flames rising at the base of his spine threatening at any second to consume him.

One, two more stuttering thrusts and the monster stills behind him, shoving his swollen knot past Stiles's aching rim with a howl, locking them in place.

The breath bursts from Stiles's lungs, Peter's name breaking from his lips as he's filled past capacity. His hands ball into fists as electric shocks of pleasure course through his body. He sobs uncontrollably as he comes hard all over the blanket beneath him.

He feels himself clench, drawing a raw and guttural grunt from the Alpha. The desperate sound makes Stiles's belly tighten and then relax as he goes boneless. Soft darkness overtakes him and he embraces it.

* * *

Stiles loses time. When his eyelids finally blink open, he's greeted with the sight of the moon still hanging high and bright in the evening sky.

Maybe only a few minutes have passed or perhaps it was hours. Either way, it's not entirely important, because as soon as he stretches out his arms, his attention is drawn to the abnormally long tongue lapping at his tender hole.

He groans as Peter, still in his Alpha form, soothes any residual ache with broad, sloppy strokes. Stiles wonders briefly if the wolf's supernatural pain draining abilities extend to his saliva, but in the end he's too distracted to dwell on his curiosities. It feels heavenly. The clawed hands wrapped loosely around his thighs—holding them open—send a renewed shiver of pleasure through his lax and sated body. His dick twitches valiantly against his stomach as the Alpha pushes its tongue in deeper, but Stiles knows his limits, especially as he slowly becomes aware of just how much his body is aching—in the best way. Still, there's no harm in lying back and enjoying the beast's delicate ministrations.

Stiles whines when the creature retreats, the monster seemingly satisfied with its efforts to simultaneously clean and heal him. A satisfied purr rumbles from its throat as it assesses Stiles's spent form. It's preening, Stiles deciphers. The swell of its chest is something he's seen on Peter all too often.

Smug bastard. Stiles would be irritated if he wasn't so well-fucked, and isn't that familiar? But then the monster pushes a water bottle his way and Stiles takes it with an automatic response.

"Thank you, Daddy."

The Alpha stills and cocks its head in surprise. Stiles is surprised, too.

But then he huffs. "I'm still your boy, I guess."

The monster curls up around him then and croons to him. Makes sure he drinks the water. Shelters him when the wind blows through the trees. Nuzzles his head in an approximation of a kiss.

Stiles has never felt so loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Green is occasionally on Tumblr at [yogi-bogey-box](http://yogi-bogey-box.tumblr.com).
> 
> Witchy is on Tumblr at [asarcasticwitch](http://asarcasticwitch.tumblr.com/).
> 
> We appreciate your kudos. <3 Leave a comment to let us know you liked it!


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